Dinner For Two
by aimakichan
Summary: Domesticity is not her area of expertise and the kitchen is certainly not her natural habitat. But Aranea ventures out of her comfort zone to do something nice for Ignis.


Aranea stared in trepidation.

Stove. Refrigerator. Sink. Cabinets. Pristine, minimalistic -as was his style- and even a bit of sickly white under the fluorescent hue of the kitchen light.

She doesn't normally do this. Domesticity is not her area of expertise and the kitchen is certainly not her natural habitat. She was a foreign woman in a foreign land. Well, not completely foreign. She did sometimes help Ignis in the kitchen, especially at the beginning when he was learning to move around again on his own and relearn his many skills after losing his sight. But in here, doing it alone? There were not many things that could make Aranea Highwind nervous. She could slay daemons and monsters that towered 50 feet above her, and bring to heel men wielding swords as big as she was on the battlefield. But in this moment, she considered herself brave for venturing beyond boiling water for Cup Noodles.

Ignis had left the morning she got back from an exhausting mission for one of his own. Accordo, being an island state before the Darkness, was in no position to be fully self-sufficent, thus assistance in delivering supplies to the survivors in the city of Altissia was a must. Lestallum was already too crowded, and the few people left in Altissia were reluctant to leave their home and what remained of their once famed fishing ports. Ignis had taken charge of figuring out trade agreements and routes as Lestallum would also benefit from the additional seafood supply. It wasn't unusual that they would often miss each other by just a day or two depending on the missions Cor had lined up and whatever needs arose at the moment. And yet, between all the work he was doing, he still managed to leave her freshly-cooked food packed in tupperware with a note:

 _Try to make it last the week. I'll be back on Friday. - Ignis_

Her eyebrow quirked at the handwriting that resembled chicken scratch, a string of hearts, followed by two smooching stick figures. Clearly, Prompto had helped Ignis write this note. Also, it had been forcibly snatched away by before he could complete the Aranea figure as evidenced by the a line cutting across the page where her boobs were half drawn. This earned a light chuckle from her.

How exactly did she survive before? Oh that's right. The Empire fed her.

Aranea had a flutter in her heart at the thought of seeing finally seeing Ignis again and found herself missing him more than usual. It was feeling a that grew each time they were apart, but she wasn't quite ready to acknowledge it even only to herself. Somehow in the midst of the Darkness that engulfed their world, they found love in a place of hopelessness and desolation. It was all so new to her and yet something about it felt… right. They had gotten close over the past three years, little by little, allowing themselves to come into each other's space. Aranea had all but moved in with Ignis a few months ago upon finding the inn in Lestallum that she, Biggs, and Wedge usually stayed at packed with newly resettled refugees.

Her anxiety to be done with the last mission was like a irritating hum in the back of her mind. Then there was the deflating feeling of disappointment that followed her through the week upon entering the empty apartment. She'd kept herself busy ridding the city's peripheries of daemons with her crew, training the new hunting recruits, and going over the logistics for the next mission to the Vesterpool region with Cor. But today, it was fairly quiet making Aranea a bit restless and bored even. Gladio wasn't even around to train with her. So here she was, desperate to do _something._ And while Ignis would never actually ask her to cook for him, she thought this might be a nice surprise for when he returned from his mission today - whether it was partly out of sheer boredom or wanting to do something thoughtful for her lover that she was willing to try something completely out of character. Fucking hell, she was turning into such a sap.

Was she getting too attached? Pining was not Aranea Highwind's style. But gods… those hands roaming expertly over her body, the way he smelled of fresh aftershave that somehow drove her completely crazy. And of course that fantastic mouth and cock of his. He knew exactly how to kiss her, lick her, and fuck her. Maybe they could do it in the shower later. He was a different kind of hot, adorable even, with his hair wet, and freshly shampooed. Plus, she always liked watching the water trickle down down his lean, muscular frame to...

Aranea stamped her foot in frustration and let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, as if the motion would make those naughty wet images of Ignis disappear. She had an important task to do right now.

 _What the hell is wrong with me?_

 _You're in love, you idiot_ , that voice inside her chided.

 _Shove it_ , Aranea says back to it. _I just really need to have sex._

 _Sure, whatever you say._

 _Great, now I'm arguing with myself._ _He'd better appreciate this._

Aranea opened a drawer pulling out the familiar brown recipe book and leaned on her elbows over the kitchen counter, flipping through the pages.

 _Crustacean Omelet... Fisherman's Risotto... Toadsteak Drumsticks... Mother and Child Rice? What the hell is that? Weird ass name._

 _Anak skewers._

 _Oh that sounds good. Wait, grill?_ Aranea looked around - no grill. Actually, she'd better take a look at what they did have first. She stepped over to the refrigerator opening it only to find it mostly empty, save for a few condiments, the milk, butter, ham and cheese she picked up the day she got back, and the half bag of sandwich bread she'd been eating after the good food ran out. Of course Ignis wouldn't leave a full fridge of perishables, especially if he was going to be gone for more than a week. And the anak meat was frozen. _Great, guess that idea's out the window._

Either way, it looked like she would have to venture out to the market.

Flipping a few more pages, and skimming through what could only be the neatest handwriting she'd ever set eyes on - even the fucking side scribbles had perfectly dotted i's and crossed t's - her eyes landed on: Dry-aged Roast Stew _. Leiden peppers, Lucian tomatoes, garula sirloin. That could be doable_. Although, may she could just stir-fry it. That seemed easier. She could make some rice too… _Oh! Plus fried eggs._ Now she was getting fancy.

She could hear Ignis's voice through the paper, reciting instructions, as she read through.

 _"Dice Leiden peppers and onions... stir fry peppers for 2 minutes over medium heat. Let simmer."_

An hour later, she was back in the kitchen from the market bearing in arms the weapons of destruction to her beloved's culinary workshop.

* * *

 _Ugh, goddamit. Ow! Why does this pop so much?_

 _What the fuck? Wait… is that how it looked when he did it?_

 _Oh shit... nope, nope!_

* * *

Ignis trekked impatiently through the streets of Lestallum, making a beeline to his apartment. He'd come to know the place well in his own personal darkness, memorizing the layout over time, and all the shortcuts and alleyways that were not as crowded as the main avenues. His patience had been wearing thin the past couple of days as they made their way from docking at Cape Caem back to Lestallum. He and the crew had been fighting through regular cropping ups of daemons, slowing their progress more than he would have liked. They had estimated getting back by morning, but were delayed enough for a nighttime arrival now.

Today, they luckily had several hours of uninterrupted driving with no daemon in sight as they passed what was once Old Lestallum and continued north. At some point, he dozed off soon to be welcomed by images of a certain silver-haired beauty. She was straddling him, her ample breasts pressing into his face, moaning as she rode him and whispered his name, her soft breath ghosting over his ear. _Ignis._ Gods, she was driving him mad. Up, down, up, down, a slow gyrating motion of her hips-

A sudden lurch of the vehicle coming to a stop shook him out of his delicious dream, and the familiar sound of a gurgle and roar had Ignis wide awake in no time. A red giant followed by a trail of thunder bombs. Not too difficult of a battle, but he nearly paid for his carelessness during the attack, as he only made a half-hearted attempt of purging the image of Aranea's soft neck and breasts from his mind. He'd been sloppy, missing what should have been an easy shot of his daggers into a bomb before it nearly fried him, and the giant's sword came sweeping down, barely missing his leg by a few inches. While fantasies about Aranea were normally welcome, it was not a helpful state of mind to have when one was in constant peril traveling through a daemon-infested countryside. She would be the death of him one day.

The adrenaline from the battle, coupled with weeks of pent up sexual frustration had Ignis nearly sprinting the last block past the Leville. By his calculations, Aranea should have been back for a week already, plus Cor made no mention of sending her off again. The Marshall was well aware of the nature of their relationship by now, and while that did not impede his decision-making process, he was at least sometimes considerate enough to inform Ignis and Aranea of each other's whereabouts. Still, there was a chance she would not be there when he got back. But his was a one-track mind as he stalked up the stairs two steps at a time, ready to sweep her into his arms and satisfy his greedy lips and rampant imagination in case she was there.

As Ignis opened the door to the apartment, he was not greeted by the usual quietness of empty space or his lover's voice floating through the small living room. Instead, there was a pleasant smell of garlic and peppers, and the sound of oil crackling over the vent on full blast coming from the kitchen.

 _What…?_

"Aranea?"

Aranea jumped at the sound of his voice, whirling around to see the handsome, lean, frustrating object of her affection standing at the doorway. His face, which she hadn't seen in weeks, was a sight for sore eyes. He had smudges of dirt on his cheeks and his gloves were caked in dirt. But still, her heart unwittingly leapt in excitement.

"Where the hell have you been?" she demanded.

"Apologies, love. We were delayed by more daemons than usual coming back."

Aranea strode over to him, spatula still in hand, and pressed a slender finger to his chest with a sharp glare in her eyes. "You were supposed to be back hours ag-" She is cut off by Ignis wrapping his arm around her waist and his hand grabbing the back of her nape bringing her lips crashing into his. Aranea moaned into his mouth and parted her lips, drinking hungrily from him, Ignis returning with equal fervor. He pulled off his gloves and dropped them to the floor, lips never leaving hers, then pushed her against the counter. His mouth left her lips to ravage her neck, sucking and nipping. Her soft curves were pressed tightly against him, and Aranea's hand made their way into his hair pulling him closer. His one hand tugged her shirt loose from her jeans, and made its way up to her chest.

As Ignis searched for the clasp of her bra he discovered there was none, just bare skin, making him smile against her neck. He brushed his thumb over a hardened nipple, earning a sharp gasp from her. The sound was music to his ears. It had been much too long and he felt he was really going to snap if he didn't have her right this moment. His other hand had already reached down to unbutton her jeans when a loud clanking sound of the metal spatula hitting the floor pulled their attention from each other.

Aranea looked at him, breathless from his ministrations. She could taste his desperation and it fucking turned her on. She snaked a hand down to grab him through his straining pants, her lips curving into a sly smile . "Mmmm… good to see you too, Specs," she hummed. "But I've worked too hard on this to just let it fry to a crisp while we fuck on the counter here." She pushed him away a bit forcing him to put his raging lust on hold.

Aranea had a point. Whatever she was doing, this... was a rare occurrence and one not to be wasted, perhaps. She extracted herself from his embrace and picked up the spatula off the floor, walked back over to the wok and promptly pushed its contents around. Ignis cringed inwardly at the fact that she hadn't rinsed it off at the sink or at least wiped it clean first. At the same time, he stood, bewildered, a bit breathless and still horny as hell as he tried to piece together the scene in front of him in his mind.

"Are you…? Why are you cooking?" He makes his way over to the stove, taking barely a few steps before-

 _Crunch._

The sound of eggshells crushed beneath his shoes. His erection disappeared.

"Oh... forgot about that," Aranea said gesturing to the broken eggs on the floor. "Lucky you can't see. You'd flip your shit if you saw what your kitchen looks like right now," she let out a loud, mirthful laugh, knowing the mess she had caused would make him reel. Honestly, she didn't think it wasn't that bad. She just wanted to see him squirm a bit.

"Perhaps this is one instance I should be thankful for that." As Ignis walked over more carefully this time, his hands trailed over the counter, feeling around for what she was working with. "Is that a garula stir-fry you're making?"

"Oh! You can tell? Well, shit... I must be doing something right."

"I left you a week's worth of food," Ignis said suspiciously.

"Ate it all."

"I trust, however, there are still some Cup Noodles left?" He opened a cabinet and reached in. Empty.

"Ate those too. Also big guy came over and stole a few. We fought over them but he promised to pay interest."

Ignis raised an eyebrow.

"Why are you acting all suspicious? I've helped you in the kitchen before and plus I wasn't about to let myself starve." Aranea paused for a bit. "Besides, I... figured you might be tired and hungry from the trip," she said, sounding a bit miffed.

Ignis chuckled. It was certainly endearing to hear his fierce dragoon pout at him for questioning her honorable intentions. "I'm sorry, love. You're doing a wonderful job. I was just a bit surprised, is all." He leaned over and gave a her a chaste kiss on the cheek.

"Why don't you get your ass cleaned up while I finish here? You smell terrible."

True, three days traveling from Altissia and camping outdoors definitely had him smelling less than pleasant, but still, "Are you sure you don't require any help?"

"Nope, all good."

"I trust you won't burn the kitchen down?"

"Hey, you were the one who wanted to have sex as soon as you walked in. If anything burns down, it'd be your fault."

* * *

A bit later, they sat across from each other at the small dining table. Aranea had managed to pull off a pretty amazing feat if she dare say so herself. Well, it didn't _look_ great, but Ignis wouldn't know that. Besides, what mattered was the taste. If tasted badly though, he didn't let on and continued eat it like the gentleman he was.

"No one has ever cooked for me before. Probably not since my mother." His heart had swelled with a feeling of pride and happiness as he stood in the shower earlier scrubbing off dirt and grime. Someone had cooked for _him_. Willingly. And not just anyone.

"What? Your bros never did any cooking while you guys were on that trip?" Then again, on the few occasions Aranea did camp with them, she recalled Ignis being the one doing all the work. Noctis and Prompto were usually on their phones playing that ridiculous game and Gladio was reading... well, whatever that book he was always reading. She would bet any amount of gil it was an erotic novel in disguise.

"Now that I recall, there was one occasion where I did make them prepare supper. No cup noodles allowed, mind you, which Gladio was quite miffed about. It was meant as a punishment for them, but I'm afraid it became a punishment for us all, myself included."

"Oh my... whatever did they do to deserve it?"

"They forgot to restock the Ebony."

"Oh Shiva…" she rolled her eyes.

"Aranea," Ignis sighed "You must understand… For all I do, I ask very little in return. Don't forget the Ebony. That is all."

"I drank your last can."

"…."

A feeling of dread washed over Ignis. He opened his mouth to say something but promptly closed it. Aranea could see his jaw tense and brows furrowing. There was a conflict of emotions playing out on his face, which she found highly amusing.

How could he be angry with her right now? For Astrals sake, she made dinner for him! _But she drank all the Ebony,_ his mind screamed. Ignis took a deep breath.

"Well, I must say, that is… regrett-" he was abruptly cut off.

"Kidding! There are two cans left AND I put them in the fridge for ya. Relax, Specs. Nobody wants that black triple-shot shit you drink. I can't believe they're still making it…"

A sigh of relief. "If we lost the ability to make coffee as well, that would very well be last nail in the coffin in this disaster of a world."

Aranea rolled her eyes, but couldn't help smiling at that.

"So if I don't remember to restock your precious Ebony, would you punish me too?" shooting him shooting a sly look.

"Yes, I would," he answered matter-of-factly.

"And how would you punish me?" she pressed eagerly, leaning forward on her elbows.

"Would you dare to find out for yourself? Or would you prefer ask Gladio and Prompto what it is like to endure one of my punishments?"

"Ooo, kinky," she had a wide smile on her face.

"Ugh, not _that_ kind." he shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

Aranea sat back in her chair with a smirk, making a mental note to pour some Ebony down the drain one of these days under the guise of drinking it.

The rest of dinner carried on with conversation flowing easily between them and playful banters as they recounted the details of their lives in each other's absence. Ignis felt more relaxed now than he had in weeks. How long had it been since they had a night like this? He thrived on pressure and creating order out of chaos. His work fighting for humanity's dwindling existence found a new meaning, even in the absence of his King. But there was no telling what would happen tomorrow. These moments where life seemed to return to some semblance of normalcy were far and few in between ever since they left Insomnia all those years ago. And he was determined to make last as long as possible, at least for tonight.

"This was very nice, Aranea. Thank you."

"Yeah?" Her face flushed as his praise. "Well don't expect this to be a regular thing."

"No? I think you're quite proficient at this."

"I just hate the smell of garlic on my hands, you know." Aranea picked at her finger nails and sniffed them lightly, scrunching her face at the sharp smell. Blood and dirt were fine by her, but raw garlic was a whole other story.

"Well, we'd best get you cleaned up then, shouldn't we?" Ignis rose from his chair and strode over to Aranea, grabbing her hand and pulling her up. He brought her fingers to his mouth and closed his lips over one, sucking lightly.

"I think a nice long shower should do the trick of removing all this, don't you?"

Aranea grinned. Looks like they were going to have some shower sex after all. She should probably cook for him more often.

Ignis let go of her hand and pulled her shirt over her head, not forgetting she'd be topless without it. He pulled her to him and buried his face in her neck for a moment before grabbing her behind and lifting her up to him. Aranea made quick work on the buttons of his shirt, pushing it over his shoulders and pressing her bare chest to his. He was still clean from his previous shower, skin smooth and smelling of soap. She ran a hand down his exposed chest, feeling the rippling muscles under her fingertips. He jumped at her touch, his heart pounding in his chest, as she came to the buckle on his pants, pulling impatiently on it.

And somehow in the midst of their frenzied undressing, he managed to make his way down the hall leaving a trail of their clothing, shutting the bathroom door.


End file.
